Monday, October 15, 2007

Feeling Horny My Fellow Singaporeans?

I first came to know about the existence of “Best of Singapore Erotica” during a reading session held at BooksActually, a lovely bookshop, a few months back. Mr. Hari Kumar, one of the featured authors was there and he read an excerpt from his story, “Night At Passion Touch”. I am not sure about the rest of the audience but being a sensitive person I felt horny after his reading. No, not horny for him but horny for more erotic stories by local writers. Unfortunately BooksActually does not carry the title or I would have bought a copy on the spot.

Well I bought a copy last week and it was sensational! Some of the stories are totally wicked! Of course there are a couple of boring stuff but most of them are thought-provoking and make great bedtime stories for your spouse.

Allow me to quote from the book, according to Didier Bernardin, owner of Crazy Horse Saloon: “If there’s more art and mind, then it’s erotic; if there’s no mind and no art, then it’s pornography.” I am not sure if I understand exactly what he means by that, but here's my take: “If you dare to show it to your mother-in-law, it is art, if not, better read it behind closed doors because most likely it is pornography.”

So here are some excerpts from this amazing book. And by the way if you are below 18, please stop reading. As for the rest, get ready for some hot chili crabs, Singapore style.

Chloe, the 129-year-old, life-size nude painting of a Parisian nymph painted by Jules Lesebvre.

The Good Girl by Alice Lee Am

“She saved her thin cotton bras with their almost nonexistent support for Mr Lim’s PE class and she wore them under a white PE T-shirt that was too tight for her and barely contained her large, round breasts. Her mother had bought her a bigger, looser T-shirt that she hid. She was pleased with the winning combination of tight shirt and thin bra. Her erect nipples stood out and she was sure Mr Lim would want to take her nipples in his mouth, one at a time, and slowly lick and suck them. How could any man not want her nipples?”

Clean Sex by Ricky Low

“She was now down on her knees with a wet rag in her hand, but before she began scrubbing, she looked up and flashed me another quick smile. She then commenced with the cleaning. She swabbed the rag against the floor in small circles, her ass and tits rotating in syncopated rhythms to this entrancing motion.”

Night At Passion Touch by Hari Kumar

“She looked at me but said nothing. She hugged me tight and continued rubbing her body on mine. Her breath came hot on my lips. I could catch the whiff of Fisherman’s Friend mints, apple and cinnamon, I guess. Her hair fell around my face like a black curtain. My whole body tingled with sensations never felt before. Primal moans rose in my throat. Down below, I was hard as rock. Feeling my hardness, she asked breathlessly, “Do you want sex?”

Body Drafts by Rachel Loh

“Her eyes shut tightly, fingers squeezed into Narain’s shoulders, Michelle thrust herself on and around the fingers until, within maybe twenty seconds, she came.”

An MRT Chronicle by Weston Sun Wensheng

“With a gentle cough, the office girl slid further down her seat while still clutching tightly to her handbag and envelope. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, she spread her legs wide open. At this, it seemed like Oily Man stopped breathing.”

Well there are many more, too troublesome to post them here. So what are you guys waiting for, go grab one before some pricks from the government decided to ban this book! And don’t forget to get one copy for your mother-in-law, if you dare!


According to a recent study conducted by our beloved National University of Singapore (NUS), shopping can stave off dementia for those aged 55 years and above! It seems that productive activities allow the brain to be more stimulated.

What about those who don’t like shopping?!!! Well, besides shopping, other activities such as preparing meals, reading and listening to music, can too help reduce the risk of getting dementia by as much as 60 percent. Now that’s better.

Although I am no professor or expert in dementia but I strongly believe that reading erotic materials will also help to improve our quality of life and brain functions. Maybe I should conduct a study on this, who knows I might win a prestigious international award too.

So who want to provide me with the erotic, err research materials?

Tuesday, June 12, 2007


I was feeling pretty religious
standing on the bridge in my winter coat
looking down at the gray water:
the sharp little waves dusted with snow,
fish in their tin armor.

That’s what I like about disappointment:
the way it slows you down,
when the querulous insistent chatter of desire
....................... goes dead calm

and the minor roadside flowers
pronounce their quiet colors,
and the red dirt of the hillside glows.

She played the flute, he played the fiddle
and the moon came up over the barn.
Then he didn’t get the job, -
or her father died before she told him
....................... that one, most important thing –

and everything got still.

It was February or October
It was July
I remember it so clear
You don’t have to pursue anything ever again
It’s over
You’re free
You’re unemployed

You just have to stand there
looking out on the water
in your trench coat of solitude
with your scarf of resignation
..................... lifting in the wind.

Tony Hoagland
Taken from What Narcissism Means to Me

Image taken from


It took me a few days to accept the fact that I am finally employed. I’ve lost count on the numbers of resumes and applications forms I’ve send out over the past 427 days just to face rejection after rejection. They were like nails, brutally forced and twisted into my body with bare hands. I fought hard to stay positive, but it was not easy especially my saving was running low.

Let’s be honest, it sucks to be unemployed. And as a student of Psychology I am well aware of its negative effects. It sucks even more when it strips your self-esteem and self-confidence layer by layer day after day. That is when you start feeling depress, anxious and naked. It also doesn’t help when your friends and family members, out of good intention, advised you not to be too choosy and just pick ANY job that is available. Yah right, jobs grow on trees like apple, so what are you waiting for, quick get a ladder.

Sad but true, work provides an important context for social interaction and to a certain degree gives one a sense of identity; it positions us in the social structure. For example, when you introduce yourself to a stranger in a social function, it is common to talk about one’s job. Work connects people and is much more interesting than discussing the weather and income tax.

According to Warr (1987) loss of income is usually the most harmful effect. I totally agree with him. If I am a billionaire, frankly I don’t mind being unemployed. I might feel sad when they rejected my applications but I will soon get over it once I bought over those companies and fired the people responsible for rejecting my applications.

That would be so cool.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Poems From Rest In Peace

I’ve decided to post some of my favourite poems from Rest In Peace here since Age of Insanity is about Poetry and Psychology.

Yippee! Lunar New Year is around the corner and is spring-cleaning time! Gee, why am I so excited about spring-cleaning, I don’t have a clue. ;p

To My Dear Children

This book by any yet unread,
I leave for you when I am dead,
That being gone, here you may find
What was your living mother’s mind.
Make use of what I leave in love,
And God shall bless you from above.

Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672)


Tablet of Stone
Written at Mount Vernon Crematorium

Coming to this lush green
Serenity, tucked away from the
Noise of city traffic, seeking
Telepathy, a reunion of
Minds, with those long dead –
Whose souls now reside amongst
The ashes in allocated cubicles,
Sealed with marble slabs – from
The living world – rows and
Rows lined with tablets of
Stone. One tablet, it seemed, was
Different from the rest. The
Visage of a little girl – Smiling –
Adorned its hard, smooth surface of an
Unearthly chill. Where flowers might
Have stood, a pink, fluffy soft toy
Sat accompanied by two plastic
Sticks of colourful lollipops, perhaps
The evidence of recent communion? In this
Dim, concrete structure built to house
The dead – an economical Mausoleum of
Sorts – comforting to find that the
Warmth of the living penetrates and
Punctures this otherwise eternal

Tan Yi-Ling


In the Attic

Even though we know now
your clothes will never
be needed, we keep them,
upstairs in a locked trunk.

Sometimes I kneel there,
holding them, trying to relive
time you wore them, to remember
the actual shape of arm and wrist.

My hands push down between
hollow, invisible sleeves,
hesitate, then lift
patterns of memory:

a green holiday, a red christening,
all your unfinished lives
fading through dark summers,
entering my head as dust.

By Andrew Motion
(Taken from The Penguin Book of
Contemporary British Poetry)


When Negro Teeth Speak

Everyone thinks me a cannibal
But you know how people talk

Everyone sees my red gums but who
Has white ones
Up with tomatoes

Everyone says fewer tourists will come
But you know
We aren’t in America and anyway everyone
Is broke

Everyone says it’s my fault and is afraid
But look
My teeth are white not red
I haven’t eaten anyone

People are wicked and say I gobble
The tourists roasted
Or perhaps grilled
Roasted or grilled I asked them
They fell silent and looked fearfully at my gums
Up with tomatoes

Everyone knows an arable country has agriculture
Up with vegetables

Everyone maintain that vegetables
Don’t nourish the grower well
And that I am well-grown for an undeveloped man
Miserable vermin living on tourists
Down with my teeth

Everyone suddenly surrounded me
Thrown down prostrated
At the feet of justice

Cannibal or not cannibal
Speak up
Ah you think yourself clever
And try to look proud

Now we’ll see you get what’s coming to you
What is your last word
Poor condemned man

I shouted up with tomatoes

The men were cruel and the women curious you see
There was one in the peering circle
Who with her voice rattling like the lid of a casserole
Open him up
I’m sure papa is still inside

The knives being blunt
Which is understandable among vegetarians
Like the Westerners
They grabbed a Gillette blade
And patiently
They opened my belly

A plantation of tomatoes was growing there
Irrigated by streams of palm wine
Up with tomatoes

By Ouologuem Yambo
(Taken from The Penguin Book of Modern African Poetry, Edited by Gerald Moore and Ulli Beier, 3rd Edition.)

Monday, January 01, 2007

To The Moon

Image taken from

Now that the year has come full circle,
I remember climbing this hill, heartbroken,
To gaze up at the graceful sight of you,
And how you hung then above those woods
As you do tonight, bathing them in brightness.
But at that time your face seemed nothing
But a cloudy shimmering through my tears,
So wretched was the life I led: and lead still …
Nothing changes, moon of my delight. Yet
I find pleasure in recollection, in calling back
My season of grief: when one is young,
And hope is a long road, memory
A short one, how welcome then
The remembrance of things past – no matter
How sad, and the heart still grieving.

By Giacomo Leopardi (1798 – 1837)
(Translated from the Italian by Eamon Grennan)


To my parents, my brother, my friends, my wife.

Thank you for believing in me.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for loving me.

It feels good to know that I am not alone. Wishing you guys a Happy New Year!